Your dreams sneak in from somewhere in the posterior region of some cortex filled with the unintentional memories of our lives’ events offering us a brief reprieve from the claustrophobia inducing regimen of our day and that which seems so strange and alien to us in these vivid hallucinations, where the labels we affix in our conscious lives appear to be tossed out at random to characters involved in the very most random acts, strangely enough seems satisfyingly normal in the surreal realm of dreams.

How queerly moves time,

non-linearly, no stream of process

rather rain, drops fall in random

puddles on the ground are sames

but the different too, so that

seemingly we re-enter the familiar

in the different countless ways

Time itself, perhaps the strangest element of the dream world which moves neither forwards nor backwards with any conceivable predictability but only occurs in the most awfully random arrangements of events that we seem to encounter the same situation although rarely do we recognize that it is the same because of the random manner that we are re-introduced again and again almost like we’re seeing it from the perspectives of various others each time it comes around again.